Page 27 of Wrath of the Dragons
She tightens her hold on my arm as we return to Finnian, Saskia, and Ryder. Sorin lands beside the pyre, causing several parents to pull their children closer. Elowen’s eyes glow gold for a moment, and the heat of Sorin’s flames slams into my face as the pyre is set ablaze.
“Did you learn that from your books?” Elowen asks.
“No.” I clear my throat. “My mother used to tell me tales while she knitted blankets in the winter.”
Elowen steps closer to me. “What was her name?”
I swallow. “Asterin.”
“That’s beautiful,” Elowen whispers.
“The blankets weren’t,” I murmur, wanting to give her a distraction as she’s given me on numerous occasions. “She was never taught how to properly knit. Ladies at court practiced needlepoint. The blankets she made always came out misshapen and riddled with holes, but they were the warmest damn things I ever owned. If I could’ve saved one thing from the fire it would’ve been one of those.”
“It makes me happy to know how deeply she loved you.” Elowen’s gloved hand slides into mine, the first sign of affection since the betrothal that I know to be true. “We will avenge her, Cayden.”
I rub my thumb over her knuckles but cut myself off when Finnian steps forward. His slender shoulders are rigid when he turns to face the crowd, and the blazing flames at his back are reflected in his determined gaze.
“What’s he doing?” Ryder asks.
“I don’t know,” Elowen answers. “He’s never spoken at a funeral.”
“I first came to Aestilian when I was a child—orphaned and alone,” Finnian begins, his voice echoing throughout the valley. “My family lived on godly land, and I never thought much of kings and queens, never understood why so many people in great tales would give their lives for them. That was before I met a queen not much older than me: Elowen Atarah.”
Her hand tightens on mine as Finnian continues.
“Lycus stood against those who betrayed her, and for that his soul will know peace in the afterlife. He was a brave and loyal soldier, and one who we should all strive to emulate. Do not let his sacrifice go in vain. Elowen is the only queen I will ever know. She is the ruler I choose to follow until the day the gods claim my soul. She has fought for us since she was a child, and now it is our time to return the favor. She rides to war against her father, and we must ride with her. If Lycus can raise his sword in her name against friends, then we should all be able to raise ours against foes. How many rulers have made a kingdom while exiled? How many people not only brought dragons into the world but ride them?”
Swords are unsheathed and hoisted in the air as the crowd grows louder. Finnian speaks in a tone I’ve never heard him use before. It demands attention, and commands respect. Sorin exposes his teeth and roars as Elowen strides toward Finnian. I don’t hear what they say above the cheering, but the love shared between them is evident in their eyes. She’s not wearing a crown, and yet anyone looking at her would know she’s a queen by the way she carries herself.
“We fight for our queen!” Finnian unsheathes the sword at his waist, raising it high above his head. “The dragon queen!”
“The dragon queen!” the crowd echoes once, twice, until it becomes a chant and a sea of raised blades, glinting in the sun as all those in attendance drop to their knees.
The dragon queen.
Not the queen of Aestilian. Not the queen of Vareveth. A queen her people will follow to any land, to any end, to war and beyond.
Chapter
Thirteen
Elowen
The moon has overthrown thesun by the time we make it back to my old home. The day was spent preparing everyone for the evacuation with Saskia and I taking charge of sorting the housing assignments, as Cayden, Ryder, Finnian, and the soldiers who accompanied us began loading trunks and crates onto wagons.
The housekeeper who’s looked after the property lit the lanterns and fires once she heard I was back. I thought I’d feel comfort in coming back here, but it’s strange to look at a site I once called home and realize it no longer is. My fingers glide against rough wood as I lift the latch, but the creaking gate doesn’t make my shoulders loosen when the sound rises to my ears. I don’t find solace while walking up the path that leads to the chipped green door I painted several summersago.
Aestilian has remained frozen in time. It’s me who’s changed. I breathe deeply while twisting the handle, but the unease within me grows as I walk toward the fire blazing in the hearth, knowing that somewhere in the past, I walked here as a different person. A queen with no army, a rider with no dragons, a woman trying to hold a crumbling kingdom together. I toss my coat on top of the pile of others thrown over the couch and claim my seat beside Saskia at the table,the combined presence of my companions banishing the loneliness that once cloaked the space.
“Please tell me you have something other than ale,” Saskia miserably mumbles.
“It’s sad you felt the need to ask me that.” I grin, reaching into the cabinet behind me to pull out a bottle of wine.
“You need to continue to expose yourself to ale to develop a taste for it,” Ryder says after taking a large bite of the pot pie, somehow making meat, potatoes, peas, and gravy seem wholly unappetizing.
Cayden rolls his eyes toward the ceiling. “Can you refrain from exposing the food in your mouth?”
“Drink every time they bicker,” I whisper to Saskia and Finnian.
